Curiousity Killed the Cat
by Yeobo
Summary: Nothing quite seems to add up with Alex Rider, and she's determined to find out why. Angst, K-Unit, and a hairball or too.
1. Chapter 1

_GCSE's suck balls,_ Lilian thought decidedly as she barely managed to keep up with the rapid pace of Ms. Bordeaux, her French teacher, as she tried - but failed - to teach the class the subjunctive. It wasn't that she was a bad teacher, she was quite nice, albeit being a little strict at times. However, there was _nothing, _absolutely _nothing_, that could keep the class from discussing - which she rather loosely worded - about the reappearance of Alex Rider.

She warily glanced around the class as they gossiped, their heads ducking every now and then, leaning in to discuss their own theories. No one actually believed that he had a shit immune system, and even she had to agree it sounded pretty absurd. No one was _actually _that sick all the time. She swore he had only been at school for a few _weeks _last term. She had been new to Brooklands last year, but even she remembered what Alex had been like before his uncle had died. He had been a bundle of contradictions. He was calm, but energetic. Hard working, but laid back. Now, as she risked a glance, he looked tired. Almost hopeless. Purple bruises scattered his arms and face and his baggy eyes seemed to have taken on a particularly dead nature. They were hardened and emotionless. His shoulders were slightly slumped, his bag haphazardly hung on his chair, and his notebook was empty. His hand was curled up into a fist as his pen lay forgotten. _Oh yeah, he doesn't need to take notes_, she remembered. At least not in languages. From what she remembered when he had been in class, he was trilingual or something.

She tried to pull her attention away from him. _Focus! You suck at french. _But even Ms. Bordeaux began to fray, noticing the class was barely paying attention to her. She loudly informed them of their pile of textbook homework before sinking into her chair and diving into one another of her crummy romance novels with a Fabio look alike on the cover. With no teacher stopping them, the class unabashedly grew louder, and she could hear snippets of conversations.

"_I bet he does drugs. Prolly snorts too."_

"_- D'you think he's being abused? I mean . . ."_

"_Maybe he's getting therapy. Heard it . . ."_

Lilian shook her head, slightly bemused with her classmates theories. Sure, they explained a bunch of stuff, but they never quite fit. He was like, fuck, a protist. Of all the things she could a compare a person to after pulling an all nighter for a not-so-surprise biology test, she chose that. She shook her head, and contemplated banging her head on her desk.

The classroom grew louder, and Lilian shoved her earphones into her ear. Modest Mouse washed over her and she felt both calmed and reinvigorated. She looked back at Alex, and however embarrassed she was for observing Alex's protist-likeness, she couldn't help but agree it fit. He never really fit with any of the theories. Sure, he could be a druggie, but she knew he wasn't. Compared to the people in the school who actually did drugs, it didn't fit. Plus, it just didn't _seem_ like Alex. He seemed somehow _above _it. She really couldn't quite phrase it right, even in her own mind. Abuse might work. It would explain the bruises well, but she also knew that Alex could take his own after he beat up those bullies last year, and so that theory was thrown out of the window. Little by little, each theory was crossed off. There were some that seemed plausible, but all too easily they were discarded. They just didn't fit.

Protists man.

She shook her head again and placed her face in her hands. _Why did she even care? _She didn't even know the answer to that. She and Alex had never been friends, but they had had been in the same group for projects a couple of times. She had come over to his house for some projects and had always liked his housekeeper, Jack, with her flaming red hair and awesome lemonades. She wondered if Jack was still there.

She glanced at her watch, anxiously hoping the class would end soon. There were only a few minutes left, and everyone seemed to be edging towards the door. It was the last period of the day, and people were quickly shoving their pencil cases and crumpled notes into their bags. Lilian took a last, long look at Alex and realized what was truly bothering her: his eyes. They were too old, too serious. Too . . . knowing. As she looked around the room, at the crinkled smiles and sleepy eyes, there was a world of difference between theirs and his. _He used to be like us. What happened?_

The bell rang, and as she moved towards the door, she watched him stride out of the class quickly, all too aware of the attention he was receiving. The students would be content with merely discussing their mysterious classmate when they were out of stuff to talk about. They would graduate, forget about him and forget about each other, and the name Alex Rider would be pushed back to the furthest recesses of their mind. He was their enigma. Their puzzle when they were bored. But Lilian remembered his eyes again, hardened and impenetrable. There was something very wrong, and she was going to find out.


	2. Drained

As she was almost out of the door, someone tugged on her sleeve. She turned her head 'round, her eyes meeting with Tom Harris' startling blue. He was one of the guys in her class, and she quickly remembered, _he__'__s Alex__'__s friend_. Probably the only one, considering today. She stepped away from the door and took one of her earbuds out. She suddenly realized just how loud her music had been.

"Yeah?" Lilian asked.

"Ms. Bordeaux's been calling you, she has to talk to us 'bout something."

"Uh, sure. Did she mention what?" Tom shook his head and dismayed, Lilian followed him back to Ms. Bordeaux's desk. Her backpack felt heavier somehow, the textbooks seemingly weighing her down more, and as she weaved around the desks she rubbed her eyes furiously. She really needed a nap.

They reached her desk, and her day quickly got worse. It was their last pop quiz, and she knew what she was in for. She could already see it in Ms. Bordeaux's face. Her eyes were tired and she was frowning.

"Tom, Lilian. I understand that it is a stressful time, but as you can see," she handed the tests to them,"you really need to improve if you want to do well on your GCSEs."

Lilian looked at the test and winced. It really was dreadful. She folded the test quickly, disappointed in herself. She had tried to study, but it just didn't stick. She didn't know what to do. Helplessly, her eyes flickered to Tom, his small face free of worry. She felt a spurt of annoyance, but just as quickly it went away. It was stupid to care if it mattered to him or not, she needed to focus on herself. She looked at her test again, nearly crumpled in her tight grasp, and sighed.

The test was still on her mind as she trudged out of the classroom alongside Tom, her sneakers slightly dragging against the floor. Her backpack was digging into her shoulder blades and she grimaced. She readjusted the straps but the pain didn't go away. It really did feel hopeless. She was good at school - great even - but she just couldn't crack French. Her mind ached thinking of the pages upon pages of grammar, the hundreds of vocabulary words they "needed" to know. She really wanted to say fuck it… But she knew she couldn't.

She contemplated getting a tutor, but she knew that was out of the question. Tutors don't come cheap, and she and mum needed to save up. Maybe she'd just have to study more. Even she shook her head, chuckling. There was already so much to study for, she'd just burn out.

She could already feel a headache coming its way, and with a hiss of frustration she dragged her hand across her face slowly. She was absolutely drained. Maybe she could ask her friends for help? She shook her head again. They sucked about as much as her, and were possibly worse students. Her eyes flickered over to Tom, and with some hesitation, and possibly anxiety, she blurted, "D'you know anyone that can help me with French?" She really had no idea what came over her, but she realized, it would be easier to hit two birds with one stone. Maybe she could crack the mysterious Alex Rider and get a better mark in French? She was probably stretching her luck with that, but it was worth a shot.

Tom gave her a once-over, and it was obvious that he was surprised. Lilian was looking at him expectantly, and, was she . . . anxious? Her eyebrows were furrowed, worried, and she was fidgeting. Her hands were in her pockets and her dark hair was tied in a ponytail. He could see the comings of a pair of puffy eye bags. _Well, if Ms. Bordeaux called both of us in, and considering my marks, she probably would be worried. _He was ok with his notes. Yeah, they were terrible, but school never interested him. But they were probably a great deal more important to Lilian, who was, save for French, quite a topper at Brooklands.

He scratched his neck. The only person who he knew that could help her out would be Alex. 'Lex always had a thing for languages, but he wasn't so sure. He just came back from for what was probably a war zone for him. He hadn't told Tom much, but he knew Jack had passed away, and Tom could see how it was practically destroying his best friend, physically and mentally. Alex had tried to act normal, but Tom had known him for years. He could see the facade cracking. Maybe tutoring would help bring some normalcy into his life? He shrugged, and said, "Sure, Alex might be able to help. I'll text him and see how it goes over."

A broad smile greeted her face and she felt like a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. She pushed the school door open, let Tom pass, and thanked him before heading home, a skip in her beat. She just might be able to crack Alex Rider and not fail her GCSEs.

—

_He was walking across the desert, his bare feet sinking deeply into the hot sand. His skin was burning as the sun perched above him, making it difficult to look anywhere but down. His legs were aching, and it felt like he hadn't eaten or drank for days. He raised his arm to cover himself from the sun, and that was when he felt it crawl on him. It was the tiniest of movements that caught his attention out of the corner of his eyes, and he abruptly stopped. _

_He forced himself to not move, to remain frozen. His body screamed for him to run, to get away, but he willed himself to stay put. It was a scorpion, big, black and ugly, it's skin shining blindingly from the sun's rays. It continued to crawl, up his calf and onto his thigh, slowly creeping it's way up. Alex's heart was beating faster and faster, and somehow, the hideous thing knew it too. He forced himself to stop. To wait. But he could see it raising its pincers, ready to inject its quick poison into his bloodstream. He realized he had been holding his breath the whole time. _

_His eyed widened, and without haste, he whipped his arm 'round to smack it off, aiming for its legs and thorax. But the scorpion was too quick, and its pincers closed down on its target. He felt it break his skin sharply, and he gasped sharply. He could feel the poison overtaking him and the world beginning to turn grey. . . Except for a head of curly red hair in the distance. _Jack_. He reached out, but it was farther and farther away into the distance. He called out for her. Screamed her name, until the energy drained from him, as he said her name over and over again, until it was nothing but a whisper. _Jack_._

Alex's eyes opened his eyes abruptly from the sound of the phone ringing. He blearily rubbed his eyes and swore, slowly pulling himself off of the sofa. He cracked his neck, arms, and back as he walked over to the kitchen. It felt satisfying considering how absolutely drained he felt. It was probably MI6 trying to ring him again. He had been ignoring their calls for a couple of days now. He couldn't take to hear them, not after what had happened. It was their bloody fault, and he didn't need to be reminded of the world he had been so harshly thrown into and tossed around until someone got bored and decided to fuck it all up even more. It was bleak, depressing, and frankly, a bitch. It was the life he didn't choose, but was continuously brought back into. And now, he was caught in the middle. He didn't feel like the people his age, but he knew he didn't belong in their world, at least for not a very long time. If Alex had his way, never again. He was done, but obviously they weren't.

After refusing to pick the phone, they slowly began to cut off his supplies. His debit card didn't work (somehow he had no money whatsoever in his account), the bills weren't being paid for, and the electricity was gone, save for the fucking telephone. He had no food and was living off of the water from the tap and snacks he picked up after school with spare cash he found around the house.

So, with some hesitance, and a great deal of exhaustion, Alex picked up the phone and answered it. A cool, indifferent voice spoke through from the other end."Hello, Mr. Rider. We need you to come in. A car will pick you up in twenty minutes."

They hung up before he could even reply. _MI6, honestly. _And with a shake of his head, he lay back down on the sofa and waited.


End file.
